


Forest Love

by elenei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluffy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenei/pseuds/elenei
Summary: After several years pass at Winterfell Arya’s feelings towards Gendry begin to grow and it scares her.





	Forest Love

Arya lay on the floor of the godswood with her eyes closed. She could feel the earth against her back and hear the wind rustling through the leaves. She focused on that. She could feel the presence of her father’s gods in these woods and it steadied her mind and heart. Nymeria would be running through these same trees somewhere and that made her feel strong. She needed all the help she could get. Arya’s heart felt unsteady for the past two days and nights. She had retreated to the woods before half the castle had woken. This place would help clear her mind.     

Arya was finally feeling peaceful when she heard a new sound. It was the still far off step of someone stomping onto fallen branches and forest undergrowth. To another it would’ve been a mystery to who was coming but not to Arya.

She would recognize his step anywhere.

There was nothing to be done but wait. She could have run but that would have been craven. She needed to face what she had done. She only wished she could take it back. It felt like everything was ruined and that hurt.

When he entered the clearing Arya opened her eyes but she didn’t move from the forest floor.

Gendry walked to over to the spot by the pools where she was laying. He looked down at her with a smile on his face.

“What're you doing down there?” He asked.

“Thinking.” She answered. Gendry nodded.

“I’ve been doing a lot of that too.” In her mind’s eye Arya saw his face all screwed up like when he was thinking intensely. Gendry sat down next to her but didn’t say anything more for a long time. Neither did Arya. She wished he would just get it over with. It felt cruel and unlike him to draw out her misery.

“I made you something,” Gendry said at last.  

“Why?” Arya asked her voice wary. She assumed he would let her down easy with words, not give her a present.

His brow furrowed at that.

“It was supposed to be for your nameday but,” he paused to reach into the pocket of his tunic. “I wanted to give it to you now.”

In his hand was a necklace; simple links of grey chain with a stone pendant. The pendant was an unpolished circle of silver stone. It was beautiful like everything he made. He had given her gifts before but nothing like this. Over the years Gendry had made her an assortment of daggers and swords and armor. And her father’s sword. He had labored long and hard to remake Ice while Arya watched biting her lip so hard at times that it bled. Seeing her father’s sword restored to it’s former glory had made Arya feel hope. He had given her that too.

This was different.  

This was the gift you gave a woman, not a warrior or a friend. Arya stood abruptly so she was looking down at a Gendry who was becoming increasingly puzzled.

“What do you think?” She demanded. Gendry struggled to his feet as she continued almost frantically. “That I'll be your lady? Or your wife?” Arya shook her head hard. “I never could.” Gendry looked around as if the source of her anger would be found elsewhere.

“What are you talking about? I thought when you kissed me…”

They had been in the forge. Arya went to visit Gendry as she did most days. They had talked about nothing for hours and then Gendry began teasing her. Before she knew it they were rolling around in the dirt like children. Gendry had pinned her and something had happened. Something had _changed_. Arya felt it in the too warm air. He stared down at her with a wide grin and those earnest blue eyes were lit up with amusement. Arya wanted to kiss him, desperately. It wasn’t the first time she had felt the urge. The past year or so her feelings for Gendry had shifted. She started to notice new things about him. Like how handsome he was. Sometimes she would think about touching his bare chest when in the forge.

It wasn’t the first time she thought about kissing him but it was the most powerful. Impulsively, Arya surged up and pressed their lips together. Gendry met her for a brief moment before pulling away. He stared down in shock. She had been so stupid. And she had run from the forge _quick as a snake_ once she could untangle herself from underneath him. Gendry had called after her but she ignored him. He had even done something he’d never done before and asked after her with the Lord of Winterfell, her little brother. Bran had told Arya that he seemed distressed but she had ignored them both.

“That it meant...you felt the same way I have for years.” Gendry stared straight into her eyes for a long quiet moment. “I love you, Arya.”

She couldn't look at him. Last time she did it had ended with her lips on his. And she felt the urge to do that again coming on. She had mistaken his surprise as rejection. But his acceptance was frightening in its own way too. Arya turned to face the weirwood. It glared at her furiously like it was angry with her for acting foolish in its place. _Make up your mind, girl!_ Arya could imagine them growling. She felt ashamed that the gods were a witness to this.

“You don't mean that,” She argued.

“You trying to tell me how I feel?” Now he was angry too. She glanced at him and the scowl on his face was fierce. “You can't do that. You have no _right_.”

“Maybe I'm trying to tell you how I feel,” Arya said.

“So you don't love me then?”

“I didn't say that.”

“What are you saying?”

Arya didn’t know how to tell him. She didn’t think there was any way he would understand. She reached up to touch her braid and felt the crinkle of a fallen leaf there. She pulled it out and watched as floated to the ground like a bloody red hand. Arya had leaves in her hair and dirt under her nails. She wore trousers and went barefoot through the woods. She didn’t sew or dance or dress pretty. She had killed men. She was more wolf than girl.

She wasn’t made to be loved.

 “I’m not a lady,” Arya managed.

“And I’m glad of it because I’m no lord.”

No, he wasn’t. But he could’ve been. After the Great War had first ended there had been talk of Gendry inheriting Storm’s End; if not for the Baratheon blood that flowed through his veins then for all his heroic deeds during the Battle for the Dawn and service to House Stark. Jon had offered it to him, Arya knew, on a silver platter. He had proven to be strong, loyal, brave and was a worthy claimant. All had agreed. The King of the Seven Kingdoms could legitimize him and he would be Lord Gendry Baratheon, no longer a bastard blacksmith. Gendry had talked to her brother and his Queen for a long time. Arya had not been permitted to attend that meeting to her irritation. Daenerys saw no harm in it but Jon had insisted. _He needs to decide for himself, little sister_ , Jon had told her gently. _He can’t have you looking at him_. Jon had mussed up her hair then and looked almost sad. Arya hadn’t understood why that mattered but she relented. In the end Gendry had done what few others had done before him; he respectfully declined a castle and lordship. He would remain at Winterfell, in the forge. _It’s where I belong_ , Gendry had said with a shrug. Arya had never admitted to anyone but she had been relieved. She hadn’t wanted to see Gendry leave, again. She loved having him at Winterfell with her.

“You remember when they wanted to make me one?” Gendry asked as if reading her thoughts. “That king brother of yours and the dragon queen?”

“Yes.”

“Her Grace had also suggested I marry,” He confessed. Gendry had to clear his throat before continuing.“‘To heal the realm,’ she said.” The next part came out in a rush. “And she thought you and I would make a good match.” Arya reflexively hid her surprise, with only a little effort but she was glad Gendry couldn’t sense her heart’s sudden racing. It shouldn’t have come as a shock but it did. Nobody had ever brought up the matter to her. Arya bristled at the thought of the three of them discussing this without asking what she thought.  

“A union between the Houses of Stark and Baratheon. She was very taken with the idea…he didn’t seem as pleased. But his Grace would support the marriage, begrudgingly I expect, if you consented. He said you would never leave Winterfell, though. Of that he was certain.” Gendry’s blue eyes were fixed on her. “I thought about it while they talked back and forth and I knew he had the right of it.”

It became quiet in the godswood once more, with only the trees whispering. Arya understood. He had turned it all down for _her_. Gendry knew Arya would not want to go south and be the lady to his lord and live in a strange castle so he had surrendered it to another.

“You could’ve married someone else,” Arya offered halfheartedly. The words made her feel a rush of jealously as they left her mouth. She imagined they would’ve found him some other highborn girl, pretty and sweet, and Arya hated her even though she had made her up.

“No,” he said simply.

Arya bit her lip. She was staring down at her feet, uncertain of what to say next, when Gendry closed the distance between them. He put one finger under her chin and lifted her head so she had to stare into his eyes.  

“I never wanted you to be a lady, Arya,” Gendry said softly. “I want you just the way you are.”

That was all she needed. Arya grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down to her. Their lips met again and this time they both returned the kiss. It was different then her clumsy attempt in the forge. It was more true. They both knew what they wanted and that the other wanted it too.

When they finally broke apart Arya smiled. “I love you too, you know?” He nodded, grinning. Gendry still had one hand wrapped around her but the other was at his side in a fist. Arya grabbed the closed hand and brought it up to her lips. She kissed his knuckle.

“Can I see it?”

Gendry laughed and opened his hand again where the necklace still sat. Arya ran her finger over it. The grey stone pendant reminded her of Winterfell’s walls.

“It’s not worth much.” Gendry sounded embarrassed now that she was staring at it so intently. “The chain is real silver but-”

“Shut up, stupid.”

 “Does this mean you want it?”

Arya nodded eagerly. She hadn’t owned a piece of jewelry in a long time. Since before the war when she was only a little girl. And there was need for gems and gold, rings or bracelets after all that. But this was made just for her. Gendry clasped it around her neck. The chain was long and it fell into her tunic and between her breasts. It was close to her heart. Arya intended for it to stay there always.  


End file.
